Any given Sunday

The day after the Superbowl is always a sad day. After all, it signals the end of football season. Today, however, is particularly sad. My beloved Patriots lost. I woke up a few times last night hoping that it was all a nightmare. Then I woke up for real this morning and turned on NPR, only to listen to Superbowl commentary and relive the 4th quarter. This game 4 years ago broke my heart, and it broke all over again last night. Rather than dwell on the fact that we really should know how to count to 11, on the fact that even the best teams, even the best players, still get the jitters, and on the passes that Brady threw that should have been caught, let me focus on what was amazing last night.

Faith Hill was amazing. She gave me goose bumps, as she does every Sunday evening during football season.

Al Michaels was amazing. His voice is just like no other, even when he says things like “The Giants are looking like they should have been the favored team.” Even Eminem agrees that Al is the best football commentator.

Madonna was amazing. True Blue was the first cd I ever bought for myself. I loved her in the 80s, and admire her even more today. No wardrobe malfunction. No malfunction at all actually. Maybe a misstep, but that didn’t slow her down. Her production was cinematic. I want to dance like that and look like that when I am her age.

David Beckham was amazing. Enough said.

The Fiat commercial was amazing. Italians know how to make a sexy commercial, and Italian is the sexiest language.

Clint Eastwood was amazing. His voice rivals Al’s. And I have a soft spot for Detroit, even though I have never been there.

The Patriots’ performance was not amazing, however, and tears were shed. According to the Bud commercial, “Great times are awaiting.” I guess that means there is always next season. Forever Forward. Forever Football.